Outcast
by wolfex
Summary: The themes of this story are much the same of those in the Hunger Games Rozaline is now an Outcast but she is far from safe Follow her on a journey of love, thrill and rebellion


**Chapter 1**

We all sat in the community center, the entire town. It was like this every night. I would half-carry my aging mother to the center, we would find a seat then we would eat our rations. The rations were the same every night- a tiny bowl of soup and harsh bead. I had a little competition with Rod, a man in his mid thirties, of guessing what was in the soup but it was hard to tell because it always tasted of dirty water.

Rod was talking to us but I was barely listening. Rod talks too much for his own good. It's not that I don't like him talking, it's just that his words are too cheery for this environment.

As we ate, I looked around. Everyone was sick and thin. They sat in their rags and ate off the dirty tables and floors. There was no doubting that the bowls they ate from had never been cleaned and had probably been walked over by rats. But we lived like this because of the government. They gave us just enough food to survive, just enough food to give us the energy to carry our weak little bodies.

Even though everyone in the town lived like this, my mother and I received pity. It was evident my mother was going to die soon and at eleven years old, I was in no state to look after myself. Still, my mother was lucky. She had lived to the ripe old age of fifty, a rarity in our conditions. It was just a shame she had me so late in her life.

I choked away tears. My mother hated tears. "The strong never cry" she would tell me. But there was just so much to cry about. How could the government do this to us? How could they watch us die? They probably laughed at our poverty while they lay on their soft clean sheets, tossing money in the air. I clenched my hands into fists at my side.

"Rosie" my mother whispered in her hoarse voice, as she worked her bony fingers through my hands. I unclenched my fists, not because my anger was gone, but because I didn't want to upset my mother. She moved her hands over my cheeks, wiping a traitor tear away. Her hands shook as if it caused her effort to lift them, which it probably did. I looked into her deep blue eyes, a reflection of my own. She opened her mouth to speak but I cut her off.

"I know, I know." I mumbled, "The strong never cry."

Her lips twitched up at the corners, the closest to a smile she could manage.

"I wish it would all end." I whispered, "I wish the government would lose its power."

It was supposed to just be another whisper among the babble of voices. It was supposed to be almost to myself, but when hundreds of heads snapped in my direction, I knew it wasn't.

Horror spread over my mother's face.

"Run!" She screamed "Run Rosie! Run!" I didn't think she had that much voice left in her. I ran. I ran like I had never run before. I didn't look back even I heard the loud slams that were the footsteps of the guards. If they caught me they would bring me back to the community center where they would kill me publicly. My heart raced, pumping so hard that I thought it would explode from my chest. I ran, dodging dead bodies of, not only rodents, but humans too. I felt like screaming but I didn't let the sound escape my lips. Soon I came to a fence and I let a small amount of relief sink in. I easily climbed the fence, the loose metal taking the little weight I put on it. It was a different story for the guards. The fence bent when they tried to climb and they had to waste time pulling it apart to make an opening.

Even with my lead I kept my pace. I couldn't let them catch me. I soon reached the forest. Twigs stuck into my bear feet, but I didn't feel the pain. I was overcome by adrenaline. The forest was dark and we were regularly warned about the vicious beasts that lived here but I pushed it from my mind. I felt like I had been running for years. I was so tired but I could tell the guards were gaining on me so I pushed on. Soon the strain on my legs got all too much, I _had _to stop. After a moment of hesitation I climbed up a tree where I perched on a thick branch.

I could hear the guards, their boots snapping the twigs beneath their feet. They ran straight under me. Not one of them bothered to look up. Once they were gone I let out a whimper. I outran them but it was no reason for celebration.

I was now cold, alone and hunted.


End file.
